


when darkness creeps in.

by GRIMMInsanity



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Nightmares, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 16:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GRIMMInsanity/pseuds/GRIMMInsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>not all dreams are sweet and taste of honey. </p>
<p>sometimes, they are dark and painful and chase you into the waking world. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(in which the bog king comforts his lover.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	when darkness creeps in.

the wood beneath her knees was hard, digging into her flesh through her pants. she could feel the cold seeping through, freezing the very bones of her legs, and still, the fire of battle still rang through her veins. bordering on panic, it nearly choked her, and wishing for her blade, she wanted to overflow like a rained in gully. 

"pathetic little princess." 

she knew that voice, could pick it out in any loud crowd, could feel it whisper across the shell of her ear in their bed. 

"pretending you’re a warrior." 

it was soft, like a lover’s caress, but still so horribly, uncomfortably loud, even with the nasally breathing of the goblins holding her tightly in place, wheezing through their barb teeth. she dared not look up, dared not to see the truth that could ring in front of her, that would ring _inside_ of _her_. 

"odd." 

her breath came out sharp, in a forced exhale with no sound, a silent snarl on a frowning mouth. she looked up, terrified and furious with what she found. the same lanky frame, tall and astoundingly powerful. he towered over her, his face twisted like gnarled wood, the crooked teeth bared in a feral display of mocking. 

she couldn’t see his eyes. 

"a freak." 

she felt the word more then she heard it, like a stab from a well placed blade, slipping past her defenses when she wasn’t looking. eyes wide, she looked on, feeling her heart racing with no sign at stopping. she was freezing, the cold almost unbearable to her skin. she swallowed, her throat dry enough to make it hurt. 

the body moved with a certain grace, predatory and strong, and even now she could feel herself shiver in awe, but his eyes, - _his eyes_ , - she still couldn’t see them. 

"unfit to rule." 

no. this couldn’t be happening. not now. not with _his_ voice. 

she could already see the turning backs, see the drooping wings of her people, and could even feel the stares of those who would not turn, eyes that were cold, were unforgiving, and lips twisted down in their disappointment. she could feel the very power in their malice, and she let out a breathless whimper. 

"unwanted." 

she flinched, because just under his tone, that rough, accented grit, she heard something softer, something smoother, something that made her shiver even harder then the cold. if the goblins had not been holding her, she was sure she would fall apart. something within her was tightening, winding closer and closer. 

something she knew all too well. 

the phantom body was given a face. 

the same face she woke to in the mornings that she stayed with him, the same face with it’s long lines and sharp bones, the same long nose and impressive brows. the eyes, however, were not the clean blue of the sky in summer, nor the clear blue of the frozen waters in winter. 

no, they were red, like poppies in spring, bright and vibrant and painful to look at. they were like the red of bleeding trees and death, and she could feel herself grow faint, the thing within her winding even tighter, like a twig bent back ready to snap. she felt the pain as it rang higher, like the keening of a bird screaming louder and louder. he had raised his staff, the thing an ugly straight line of darkness, pure and dangerous. 

“ _unloved_.” 

with the dual ring of the bog king’s voice and her own, harsh and cold still ringing against her heart, she ached. her voice came crawling out, warbled and in so much pain, the thing in her belly having risen past her heart and into her throat, slipping out as the staff began to swing down. it was almost as if it was traveling through water, slow, but steady, ready to find it’s true mark. 

"bog, no." 

her body shook viciously, and looking upon his face, her body felt warmed, seared, by the tears that trailed down from her eyes, burning lines into her cheeks. 

“ _please._ ” 

just before the staff hit her, unable to shut her eyes to the ferocity and utter disregard in the bog king’s eyes, she flew up from the bed of moss she had been dreaming in. the cold of the nightmare slamming against the warmth, the heat, of her bedspread, the sweat trickling down her back between her shivering wings. 

the scream that tore itself up and out through her throat was sharp and sudden, raw and pained in the way an animal was when caught in a trap. it broke into the soft litany and mantra of ‘no, no!’ and she barely even recognized the sudden shout of concern and terror in a voice that she knew too well, heard in her dreams. 

eyes wide, unseeing, she felt her fear chocking her and made her flinch at the sudden hands upon her shoulders. the sleep still clung to her eyes, still shivered through her core, and the voice calling her. - “Marianne! Marianne, look at me!” - cut through the shadows like a blade of light. 

the tone of his voice had her focusing, turning to look at him as he commanded. what she found was that same sharp face, with the same long hooked nose, with the same fierce brows and angled cheeks. but what had her finally settling into reality was the blue she could see. the bright, blazing blue of his eyes. so sharp, so unimaginably blue, she felt herself choking on her sobs. 

the blue of the summer sky. 

the blue of the frozen rivers. 

the blue of her lover’s eyes. 

"Hey. Hey, it’s alright. You’re alright." 

as if those words were moving against the bundle of nerves within her, hands careful, she felt herself move, felt herself fall against him and couldn’t help but bury her face into his neck. she was shaking, she could feel it, terror and panic still raging through her body, but the hands that wrapped around her were anything but cold or harsh. they were warm, a living breathing thing that melted away any tension in her frame. 

he smelled of rain and leaves, a clean scent that had her mind clearing, and a spice, - the scent of skin beneath the bits of his carapace, - that smelled and felt like home. she sobbed against him, like a babe against their mother, and he held her close, fingers curling into her chestnut hair. he pressed his face against hers and could say nothing. 

he could only offer her his silent comfort in the predawn of her coronation day.

**Author's Note:**

> this drabble is written to go with this comic: http://ladybajingoarts.tumblr.com/post/110560948651/the-sweet-sweet-angst-i-promised 
> 
> Please go check it out, because the art work is beautiful and this artist needs to be well known!


End file.
